


astronomy in reverse

by flusteredkeith (the_silverdoe), the_silverdoe



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (sort of), Canon Timeline, F/M, First Kiss, Lotura - Freeform, Slow Burn, i don't know what this is anymore lmao, vignettes throughout S5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_silverdoe/pseuds/flusteredkeith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_silverdoe/pseuds/the_silverdoe
Summary: It’s a curse. Everything he’s ever loved, everything he’s ever wanted, has always disintegrated to ash at his touch. It is by no means the first time he’s flown so close to the sun, but now that he’s seen how brightly she shines, felt the warmth of her presence and the radiance of her soul, he can’t help but fly on and pray he’ll survive the burn.





	astronomy in reverse

**Author's Note:**

> this is baby's first time writing lotor ever!! i fell in love hard with lotura after s5, but haven't been able to get something out until now. tumblr user [we-all-chase-perfection-blog](http://we-all-chase-perfection-blog.tumblr.com/) suggested First Kiss as a prompt.. and then i kind of snowballed from there. this ended up being more of an exercise for me to understand lotor more than anything! it also made me realize they're like beauty and the beast but in reverse, where the beast stays at beauty's castle instead. :P
> 
> so yeah, anyway. hope you enjoy!!

 

His hands are tied; but that’s nothing new.

It’s the first thing they do the moment he steps off his ship. He had expected this — the Blade of Marmora standing in a line surrounding him, ready to strike should he prove to be difficult. With his arms up above his head, he greets them all with a small smile — and they’re on him at once.

For the second time tonight, he’s wearing handcuffs, but he understands. They do what they must, and he does what he must. But for now, they needn’t worry. He isn’t going to act hostile.

He feels a firm, steady hand on his back as one of the Blade members pushes him forward, away from his ship and towards the entrance of the castle. For a brief tick, he feels like a ragged doll, dragged around across the galaxy only to end up in someone else’s brig. It’s the knowledge that he  _ will _ get past this that eases his spirits.

With a hiss, the doors slide open. A long, bright hallway stretches out before him. Up ahead, Team Voltron is running out to meet him. In spite of the angry looks on their faces, Lotor manages a steady smile.

“Greetings, Paladins,” he begins. “I come in peace. As you may have heard by now, my father —”

But before he can say anything else, the paladin in front — none other than Princess Allura herself — comes charging forward, teeth bared, brows furrowed, and an unmistakable fire in her eyes.

With a force much stronger than he had anticipated, he finds himself slammed backwards, the wind knocked out of his lungs as the Altean princess shoves him up against the wall.

He grits his teeth to prevent himself from crying out. The heel of her palm presses harder into his chest even though he’s made no move to fight back.

“What do you want with us?” she asks, her tone rough with the aggression of a thousand suns. For a brief second, he forgets what he’s going to say.

It’s a feeling he’s not quite used to, like finding something he didn’t account for after running calculations through his mind all day. It takes him a while, but as he looks down at Princess Allura, it suddenly dawns on him that he’s feeling impressed. Not just because of her death grip. Considering her Altean lineage, he’d never doubted her strengths or her abilities. But this — this is something else.

Rearranging his face back to its usual composed expression, he relaxes his body beneath her hold and smiles.

“Princess Allura,” he says, delighting in the way her eyebrow twitches. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I see the rumors of your abilities are true.”

“Is your flattery supposed to win me over?” she seethes.

And there’s a million things he’d like to say to that, most of which he knows would ruin any chances of him gaining their trust, so he doesn’t speak at once. He has to play his cards carefully. Whatever has happened in the past and whatever will happen now, it doesn’t matter. He needs them.

“I did not come here to win you over,” he says. “I came here seeking peace.”

“Aaaand… we’re supposed to just believe you?” the yellow one asks.

“After all those times you’ve deceived us?” the black paladin adds.

Ah, he thought he’d have to cross that bridge eventually. Gathering himself, he slides smoothly into a response.

“I know my track record has not been the best, but… The tides are changing. While the empire has grown scattered in Zarkon’s absence, you and your team have built the coalition from the ground up, and with great success. But now that Zarkon is out there regaining power, he’ll do anything to seize back total control of the empire. As such, I ask only that we set our differences aside and work together so that when the time comes, we may stand a chance against him.”

Silence greets these words. He can almost hear the cogs of their brains turning as they try and analyze the situation. He doesn’t blame them. For him to come here seeking asylum after their previous encounters will undoubtedly read like deceit to them.

“How do we know?” Princess Allura asks. “How can we be sure you won’t turn against us once Zarkon is defeated?”

“Yeah,” the black paladin agrees. “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve double crossed us.”

“If you do not wish to trust me until the very end, I leave that up to you,” he responds. “But if you truly want to see Zarkon defeated, then in the hear and now, I’d ask you to seriously consider it.”

“Blah blah blah. Methinks the man doth speaketh too much!” the blue paladin interjects with a frantic, dismissive wave of his hand. “I say we lock him up and keep him for leverage.”

“If it’s leverage you want, I have much I could offer to bolster your cause,” Lotor reasons.

“What could the son of the Galra Emperor possibly offer us?” the princess spits out menacingly.

“Information that could be vital to taking down Zarkon’s reign piece by piece.” His eyes narrow as he stares down at her, both challenge and a plead.

“Zarkon just said you’re now an enemy of the state,” the blue one continues, crossing his arms. “You’re only running to us because it’s convenient.”

“I won’t deny that,” he says. “But why should that mean you ought not to trust me? I have saved your lives and the lives of all your comrades. I have given myself in at your disposal. I have intel that could make the fight just as convenient for you. If we work together, we may stand a chance against Zarkon and become strong enough to bring down his forces —  _ if _ you simply give me a chance.”

He feels an increase in pressure at his chest where the princess’s palm digs in harder and has to suppress as smirk. It’s written so clearly in her eyes: she’s conflicted. It’s exactly where he needs her to be. He just needs to push it a little bit more to tip the scales in his favor.

“Our fathers were once the defenders of the universe long ago. Together, they had a heavy hand in establishing an era of peace.” He breathes a little easier as Princess Allura begins to loosen her hold. “If you are truly King Alfor’s daughter, then perhaps the hope for reestablishing that peace is not lost. Perhaps there is still hope for the universe.”

His eyes bore into hers, scrutinizing every shift he can pick up in her expression. She isn’t quite there yet, but he doesn’t expect her to be. This is only the beginning.

“Shiro?” she asks without taking her eyes off Lotor’s face. “What do you think?”

There’s a pause while everyone else turns to look at the black paladin for guidance.

“I say we wait and see if his intel checks out,” Shiro says after some thought. “Let’s take him down to the prison cell and see what he has to offer.”

In one swift movement, the princess grabs him by the collar and pushes him forward down the hall. The Blade of Marmora regroup around him as he continues his walk. It takes everything within him not to look back at her.

He’s once read about strong Altean energies. It’s one of the few things in all the research he’s found on Honerva that he’s never quite felt or understood for himself. But now, after his first encounter with the one and only Princess Allura herself, he thinks he finally understands.

Dipping his head low, his hair falls forward past his shoulders, concealing the smallest sliver of a smile.

This is only the beginning.

 

* * *

 

 

The Emperor has fallen; struck down by his own hands, which, so far throughout all this time, have somehow remained steady.

Princess Allura shoots him worried looks on the bridge as they wait, but he doesn’t need them. He doesn’t need her pity or concern. There’s more important matters at hand: discussing their next steps, securing the throne, getting the witch as far away from his goals as he possibly can…

He’s close, closer than he’s ever been before. A sacred place he’s only ever seen in dreams. The time for mourning his father has already passed.

So when the princess asks if he’s alright, he does what he’s long since learned to do: deflect.

_ I’ll be fine. _

It works for the most part. Once the others arrive, he brings up the Kral Zera. The discussion is enough to set their focus on more important topics. It’s not until the conversation ends and everyone leaves that Lotor soon discovers that he may not be completely off the hook.

“Since you are no longer our prisoner,” Princess Allura says once the last of the team members — the blue one — is out the door. “I should probably show you to your room.”

She truly does feel sorry for him, he realizes as he looks her in the eye. It isn’t a passing pity; he can hear it in her voice. Soft, gentle, and quiet, she speaks to him now with the utmost delicacy and care. It’s… unnerving. Despite how calm and steady he’s been this whole time, the princess still senses enough turbulence beneath the solid exterior he’s put up to warrant the kinder shift in tone.

But on the flip side, it works better in his favor.

His lips curl into a smile.

“Lead the way, Princess.”

They walk through the hallways of the castle side by side in silence. Every once in a while, he notices her eyes shifting up to chance a glance at his expression, checking, he presumes, for any sign of a crack. Whatever she’s searching for, he refuses to give it. And even if he wanted to, he’s long since accepted that there’s nothing there to find.

“Here we are,” she says when they finally reach their destination. She punches the keypad and the doors slide open to reveal a sparse and empty room.

“You may come and go as you please, of course,” she continues, stepping through the door. “Everything you need should be laid out in here for you. Let me know if you need help with the shower. Altean designs may be quite different.”

“I’ll be fine,” he tells her, his eyes surveying the room. If the Kral Zera goes as planned, he won’t be here for much longer anyways. “Thank you.”

He walks in with his back to her, expecting for her to leave. Instead, he hears her footsteps draw closer.

“I — I just wanted to say,” she starts, a nervous tremble in her voice. “I’m sorry for judging you so harshly before. It hasn’t been easy for me, working with the Galra. Even when I discovered the truth about Keith, I had… quite a difficult time in accepting it. My mind had to undergo a complete paradigm shift, one that still continues on to this day. And although working with the Blades has been a good challenge for me, I know I still have a lot to learn.”

She takes a deep breath, and in her exhale, he can almost hear the physical release of a heavy burden.

“So, thank you for being patient with me. I hope you understand my predicament and… I am glad we are working together. Perhaps a peaceful, new alliance between Altean and Galra  _ can _ be found.”

He takes his time letting her words sink in. It’s more than he’d expected from her — an apology, an acknowledgment, a show of vulnerability, and not least of all, an expression of well wishes for what’s to come. Despite her initial distrust and ironclad will, the princess offers her heart out so easily and freely. It’s more than he knows how to handle. These are not the kind of gifts that he can take lightly.

With a small smile on his face, he turns around to face her.

“Thank you, Allura,” he says with a slight bow of his head. “If the stories of King Alfor’s grace and honor have all been true, then it sounds like you really are your father's daughter.”

That wins him a shy smile from her. But just as soon as it comes, it fades again, her eyebrows creasing into a worried look.

“I know you said you’d be fine but,” she bites her lip and looks down at the floor. “Losing a father is never easy, even one as… as — well…”

“Consumed by power?” he offers.

“Well — yes. Even one as consumed by power as he was,” she says. Her eyes shift up to meet his, her gaze uncertain. “It can’t have cost you nothing to do what you did.”

There’s no use denying it, so he stays silent. There’s nothing he can say to that that’ll ease the horrors he’s long since grown used to.

Her arms twitch, as though about to lay a comforting hand on his arm before thinking better of it. She folds them in front of her instead to excuse the sudden movement.

“I suppose what I am trying to say is,” she continues. “You don’t have to hold yourself on your own. We  _ are _ a team now: you can fall back on us.”

She offers him another smile.

“But of course. I understand if you’d prefer not to,” she shrugs. “I just wanted you to know that, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And with one last look of intent, Princess Allura turns away from him and walks out of the darkened room, leaving him alone to his thoughts as the doors slide shut behind her.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

“Hey, Princess, do you know where Shiro is?”

“Let me check.”

Her heart stops when she realizes he isn’t on the ship.

“His lion’s gone, too.” In spite of her surprise, her mind immediately makes the connection: “Where’s Lotor?”

Allura knows she is not alone in this — everyone has been thinking it: Shiro has been difficult to work with lately. Perhaps it’s the stress, but Allura had always known Shiro to be calm and level-headed. It feels almost like a betrayal. When he walked out of the room on them earlier, she would never have expected for him to go behind their backs again like he did when he gave Lotor the black bayard. It pains her to think that the two of them have decided to treat the team this way.

“But we have already agreed not to go in,” she finds herself saying to Hunk, Pidge, and Lance once they’ve regrouped on the bridge.

“I know we did,” Lance says, looking just as uncomfortable and annoyed. “But even though Shiro went behind our backs, you know he did it with the universe’s best interests at heart. We  _ do _ need Lotor on that throne, not Zarkon’s witch. We’re still a team, and we can’t leave them out there alone.”

Allura sighs. “You’re right. The damage has already been done. If Shiro and Lotor are at the Kral Zera, we need to make sure Lotor takes the throne.”

It’s a risk no matter what. When it comes to seeking peace with the Galra, there’s never been an easy option.

“So that’s settled then,” Lance nods, his shoulders set and ready for a fight. “Let’s get to our lions!”

Hoping against all hope that Lotor knows what he’s doing, Allura goes.

 

* * *

 

She watches as he walks up to the top of the hill, torch in his hand. A mixture of uncertainty, dread, and hope flares inside her chest — she hopes she can trust him, hopes he’ll be the key to the long searched for peace she’s been yearning for for over a lifetime, hope that everything they’ve worked for will not have been for naught —

Whatever happens, she hopes she’s made the right decision.

* * *

 

 

She hates it here. Everything feels wrong. The entire place reeks of lingering ghosts that should have died out long ago, cold air curling around her neck, haunting whispers of unnatural life. If this is what Lotor thinks is a necessary step to achieving peace among the Galra, then she doesn’t want to take any part of it.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

She turns to leave but he catches her hand — it catches her breath.

“Please. I cannot do this without you.”

His voice is soft, gentle, imploring; a small, quiet tug on the sleeve of her heart. Lurking just beneath it, she hears the word he doesn’t say.

_ Stay. _

Allura feels a tight knot twist inside her chest. If she could have it her way, she’d have turned tail and ran the second she stepped into Haggar’s lair. But then she looks up to meet his eyes and her resolve melts. Though he’s remained calm and collected this whole time, his gaze betrays a flicker of something unsettled that’s been buried under layers and layers of practiced detachment. She realizes then that it is just as hard for him to be here as it is for her.

He doesn’t want to be here alone.

She thinks she finally understands. There are so many secrets to uncover here, so much history to delve into. It isn’t easy, but through his solemn invitation and his expression that she is the one he wants to further that knowledge with, she finds solace in the fact that they’re in this journey of exploration together.

So she stays.

 

* * *

 

The first thing she learns is that Lotor is Altean.

After all this time, after believing she and Coran were the last Alteans left, the revelation comes as a shock for her. She’s always known there was something different about Lotor, but she never would have guessed she’d encounter companionship such as this. With her entire civilization eradicated, realizing she can share her lost culture with a peer, with someone more like her — it comes to her as a most sacred bond.

They’re in this together.

The second thing she learns is that Oriande might be real.

Centuries of lore, years of hearing stories, Allura’s never imagined it may be more than just folktale. So when she asks it of Lotor, her voice is hushed and quiet but filled with awe, as though raising her voice too loudly will interrupt this beautiful, pleasant dream.

The next thing Lotor asks her to do nearly breaks her down.

She turns the stone over and over in her hands, fingers searching for a crack, a weakness, an opening —  _ anything _ . But as far as she can see, it’s completely solid.

Throughout this process, Lotor never takes his eyes off of her, but she wishes he would. His gaze is soft and exudes patience, but it’s the exact reason it gets under her skin. She hates the pressure of feeling like she needs to succeed for the both of them and there’s a chance she might not be able to.

_Please, open._ _Open up. Please._

But the stone won’t budge.

The flicker of excitement from before dies out as she lowers the stone and looks down at the floor. Something constricts inside her chest as one of her worst, underlying fears is confirmed.

_ What if she’ll never live up to the legacy of her father? _

“You must. There must be a way to carry on the tradition of Altean alchemy.”

She can’t meet his gaze. She wants to carry on those traditions just as badly as Lotor does; he’s the only living person now who can possibly understand how she feels about this, and she’s failed them both. And worst of all, she’s failed her father.

“That tradition died along with my planet ten thousand years ago.” Her voice shakes as she pushes the words past the lump forming in her throat. “I’ll never be the alchemist that my father was.”

She lets the tears fall. As they roll down her cheeks, she realizes it’s the first time she’s cried in front of someone in a long, long time.

A faint glow beneath her draws her attention. Looking down, she gasps. Before she has time to register what the stone is doing in her hands, a flash of light bursts forth right in front of her eyes.

She blinks up, tears forgotten, and her mouth falls open in awe.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

_ Someone’s learning. _

Excitement such as he hasn’t felt in centuries surges through his veins. It crackles like electricity, his mind racing, his heart pumping, a feverish spark of desire, of longing, a yearning for more.

The constellations spill out before them, a burst of neon color filling the dank, dim-lit room, the stars reflected in their eyes as they look up.

“Allura… you’ve done it.”

“Is that…?”

_ “Oriande.” _

He’s  _ so _ close, so close to touching the stars, he can almost taste it.

“Thank you,” he hears her say. Tearing his eyes away from the hologram above, he looks down at her in mild surprise. He can’t think of what he’s done to warrant her gratitude but she’s staring up at him with a mixture of awe and — dare he say it — pride. It’s different from the awed looks of his generals and his followers. There had always been an inherent distance between them; they looked to him with a respect that bordered just slightly upon fear. Allura, on the other hand, doesn’t hold back her heart. When she expresses her gratitude, she exudes a joy that reaches far beyond respect. It’s… disconcerting to say the least.

No one has ever looked at him that way before. Despite losing her entire planet, Allura has somehow remained a gentle being with such a strong will. And yet, she’s so pure of heart, so ready to give all the pieces of herself out to others, he’s almost afraid to break her.

Lotor smiles and bows his head towards her.

“You had the power within you the whole time.”

She’s never looked more beautiful than when she’s discovering. He can almost feel the excitement and energy emanating from her skin. Instead of responding, Allura continues to grin up at him until something foreign and tingly starts to tickle down his spine. In an attempt to shake it off, he turns away from her and looks back up at the projection before them.

“Allura,” he says. “How do you feel about joining me in a quest of self discovery?”

Once he’s regained his composure, he looks back down at her and holds out his hand.

Allura glances down at it with curiosity burning in her eyes, her mouth slightly parted. With a small smile, she claps her hand with his in a firm shake.

“I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a first for everything, he supposes, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. He’s never been bested by anyone in anything before.

Centuries spent seeking Oriande, seeking that sacred knowledge which he upholds so highly… only for him to become a simple stepping stone for Allura to rise.

It kills him. It kills him that she has no idea how special she is. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then his very existence strengthens her value. Everything she has, every quality and ability he’s coveted, she’s merely inherited, free of charge. And yet, it is not the innate magic that allowed her to pass the test — it was her heart. The one thing his parents failed to foster, the one thing he doesn’t have. Despite all of his research, all of his work, there’s no way he could have foreseen this.

She will never know how special she is.

“Are you alright?”

Lotor shifts his eyes onto her. The others have staggered off to the lounge area to catch their breath, leaving the two of them completely alone. Too late, too slow, he arranges his expression back to its usual composed and calm state. She’s looking up at him with knitted eyebrows and a frown. A kindness too much for him to bear.

“I’m fine,” he replies with a smile.  _ Don’t worry about me.  _ “You should get some rest, Princess.”

“I’m too excited,” Allura says, beaming. “And… I wanted to thank you for pushing me further than I have ever gone. I meant what I said earlier. I couldn’t have gotten here without you.”

It’s like rubbing salt into the wound. Although he can’t deny she has every right to feel overjoyed, he’s finding it difficult at the moment to reciprocate. He decides instead to veer the conversation back to a realm of pragmatic reasoning.

“When the White Lion charged at you, what caused you to act the way that you did?”

She looks down at the floor, giving his question serious consideration.

“I don’t know. When I saw that it was going to attack, I felt afraid, but I didn’t want to fight. It didn’t feel right,” she smiles up at him apologetically. “In the end, I remembered: I came for more understanding of alchemical knowledge, and for peace; not for war.”

_ Victory or death. _ That’s all he’s ever known. Being a conqueror, ruling over the universe — the very things he hates about his father, and yet, perhaps Allura had been right all along. He  _ is _ his father’s son.

What would his life have been like if he had grown up with King Alfor instead?

But even as the thought comes, he pushes it aside. Out of all the realities that exist out there, this is the one he got, the one he’ll always have.

Until he can take matters into his own hands. Reverse his fate and change his destiny. But if Allura is the chosen one, it complicates matters.

“Lotor?” He focuses his attention back to her. “If I may ask, what happened when you faced the White Lion?”

As harsh and as cold as he’s seen Allura can be, when it comes to the people she comes to see as her own, she is surprisingly unassuming and naive about them. Compared to her, he is a monster. With all her purity and compassion to strive for the greater good of the universe, he can’t imagine her taking that realization lightly. It’s a delicate rope to walk and yet, for some reason, he can’t bring himself to hurt her. There would be nothing to gain by hiding his true nature. 

Closing his eyes, he decides on the truth.

“I cut it down.”

Just as he expected, Allura remains silent. When he opens his eyes, however, he doesn’t see surprise or disgust in her expression. Instead, there’s something closer to sorrow in her eyes, something that causes the young Lotor in him to shrink back in shame. It only takes a split second for him to realize that it’s pity.

It’s worse than he thought.

Repulsion or fear would have been more welcome; that would have at least been a sensible response. But this unsolicited imposition of sympathy, of sentiment, of  _ compassion _ — it isn’t what he asked for. Always, for centuries, he’s been treading a clear path of his own making, operating under the assumption that he is destined and alone in his determination to set his course right. But his research has brought him here, and while he’s done his best to stay impassive around the people he’s had to work with, he’s been flitting a little too close to Allura for comfort.

It’s unnerving. Throughout everything, all his calculations and careful planning, years and years of hard work and constant vigilance, he had thought he could hold whatever effects the Altean princess might have on him at bay despite all the warning signs. Instead, he now finds that she’s been slowly encroaching into all the spaces of his life he thought he’d closed off long ago.

It’s so much worse than he thought.

“I’m sorry,” she says, taking a step closer and laying a hand on his shoulder. “I am sure you were only trying to do what you judged to be right.”

His eyes flicker down to her hand then back to her face. He should back away, he knows he should, but her steady gaze pins him in place.

For all his attempts to remain detached, Allura is simply too fascinating to pull away from.

“And what do you judge of my actions?” he asks.

“You may have been brought up by your father, but you have proven that you are not the same.” She smiles encouragingly up at him. “You stood up for an innocent planet once. You have been taking measures towards peace. You brought me here to this place. Whatever influences your upbringing has had on you in the last few centuries, there is also good in you. I can feel it.”

And there it is again — that naive trust she has. It’s a delicate thing to hand over to him, but she does so anyways.

Reaching his hand up, he lets the back of his fingers graze her cheeks where her Altean marks are. She doesn’t flinch; instead, her eyes flutter shut and she takes another step closer.

A loud hum vibrates beyond the starry expanse. Allura gasps and snaps her head towards the windows in surprise. He recognizes what it is immediately.

A Galra cruiser.

“What was that?” Allura asks.

Gritting his teeth, he looks out towards the bridge’s screen. Sure enough, in the distance, a large, dark gray mass of a Galra spacecraft is pulling up into view. There’s only one person he knows in the entire galaxy who would want to accost them here.

“No. Impossible,” he breathes. “How did she track us?”

“Who?”

Anger such as he’s never felt before flares up inside him, a tightening ball of flame constricting his chest. He whips around, eyes darting all over the room — the teludav, the screens, the ceiling, the walls, the controls. If she’s here, then that must mean — and of course she would want to — she has eyes everywhere — she must have them even out here — but how could she have — 

“Lotor?”

His eyes widen. Last time, it was Narti. But that had made sense because she had crossed paths with the witch. As far as he’s aware, no one on this ship has recently come into close contact with her. Unless —

He draws his sword.

“Lotor, what’s going on?” she demands, her voice cracked at the edges.

It’s been a long while since the last time any of them had direct contact with Haggar, so if she  _ has _ seized control of any one of the paladins since before he met them, how long has she been spying? How long has she known? Has she guessed his plans? Seen into his mind and deduced the truth?

“Is it… Is it Haggar?”

He looks to her, eyes narrowing. He was with Allura the entire time at Oriande. If the witch had been with them during that time, perhaps Allura would not have passed through. They would have known.

“Lotor, what is going on?” she repeats.

“Yes, it’s her,” he tells her. “And she wants what you have.”

Her eyes widen, like a small confused animal that doesn’t fully comprehend the danger it is in.

“But,” she bites her lip. “How can she — what does she intend to—?”

“Don’t worry,” he says, throwing up a protective arm out in front of her and stepping forward towards the teludav. “I won’t let her lay a finger on you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Allura is untouchable.

Red, hot, fiery, her entire body burns with a bright, luminescent glow. No matter what the witch does, Haggar’s magic can’t hurt her.

It’s captivating. He finds it fascinating how she can remain so untainted by the evils of this world. A true product of her father’s alchemical nature.

His lungs feel like collapsing from the aftermath of Haggar’s attack and his chest still aches where she hit him. The screen of his helmet fogs up with each painful breath he takes. Adrift along with the debris outside of Oriande, he can hardly see what’s going on.

She will never stop hunting them, never stop seeking for pure Altean magic to pervert for her own powers, so when her ship finally, at long last, retreats into the night, he can hardly believe his eyes.

In the aftermath, he sees in the distance the Blue Lion drawing closer. Allura must have returned to her position in its seat. As the right leg of Voltron comes upon him, she scoops him up in her mouth in one fell swoop.

When he falls into the cockpit, a blur of pink fills his vision as an arm, firm and steady, wraps around his torso.

“Are you alright?” Allura asks, supporting his weight upon her shoulder.

“You were able to fight off the witch?” he winces as he lets his knees give out. Allura crouches down with him, her shoulder still propped up against his chest.

“I believe so.”

He lets himself lean into her, gripping the underside of his helmet and pulling it off so he can take in more air.

The sound of static fizzles in and out of Allura’s headpiece, along with Lance’s voice shouting  _ “Allura? Allura, is everything okay?” _

“I’m fine,” she says, before pulling it off her head and setting it down beside them.

“Lotor,” she begins, sounding nervous. Her gaze falls to the floor, unable to look him in the eye. “I — I know it may be hard for you to accept, but after what happened today, after everything we’ve seen in Oriande and of the powers she possesses, I do not think there can be any doubt now that Zarkon’s witch is — that — that Haggar is the same person as —”

“I know.”

Allura’s eyes snap up to his. He can see the surprise in them as the question dies on her lips, and with it, a welling of emotion and deepest sympathy.

“I’m sorry, Lotor.”

And she truly looks it, though there are too many missing pieces for her to fully comprehend. In addition to that, she’s not the one who’s a product of corrupt alchemy gone wrong. But if there’s one thing he’s learned about her in the last few weeks, it’s how how vast her compassion for others is. These are not her emotions nor her burden to bear, and yet, with brows furrowed and eyes wide with pity, it’s clear she feels them so much stronger than he ever will.

“I know how much it meant to you,” she continues, “and how much you looked up to Honerva. I’m… truly, very sorry.”

He feels an ache of longing twisting inside his chest. It’s a lesson he’s learned long ago not to grow attached to anything, for the good things of this world are too easily lost — not least of all, the things you’ve come to love.

Reaching up, he gently cradles her cheek in the palm of his hand. 

“That doesn’t matter now,” he says.

They’re closer than they’ve ever been. Glistening in deep cerulean waves, her wide-eyed gaze fills his vision, her lips only a mere inches away.

He does not know what will happen to them, or how much longer this will last, but until then, in the here and now, she’s kneeling before him, her hand over his, leaning into his touch… and he just can’t leave a beautiful thing waiting.

It’s a curse. Everything he’s ever loved, everything he’s ever wanted, has always disintegrated to ash at his touch. It is by no means the first time he’s flown so close to the sun, but now that he’s seen how brightly she shines, felt the warmth of her presence and the radiance of her soul, he can’t help but fly on and pray he’ll survive the burn.

Sliding his fingers down her jaw, he tilts her chin up and leans in. Just as she’d done with the White Lion, she closes her eyes and surrenders her heart.

He leaves all reservations behind at the first brush of their lips. Soft and pliant, they part open against his as he pulls her bottom lip between his teeth, taking deliberate care not to graze her with his fangs. She yields to his every move, her fingers curling at his shoulder as his other hand comes up behind her neck to cradle her skull.

Nothing good in this world ever lasts, so he flies on. With thrusters burning at full capacity, he hurtles through space, straight into the heart of the sun.

And in the end, it’s he who turns to dust.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hello to me on [tumblr](https://flusteredkeith/tumblr.com) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/flusteredkeith)!


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